The Gambler
by Eve-gone-bad
Summary: Edward grew up with a strange condition called Asperger's,struggling trying to figure it out emotions,tired and exhausted of society he ends up as a croupier in a casino,were he meets Bella,a gambler.But you know what they say,gamblers don t care
1. Chapter 1: Croupiers and Gamblers

**COMPLETE SUMMARY: Edward grew up with a strange condition called Asperger's, struggling all his life trying to figure it out emotions, tired and exhausted of society he ends up as a croupier in a casino, were he meets Bella, a gambler. But you know what they say about gamblers, they don´t care if they lose or win, they only want the thrill.**

**CHAPTER 1: CROUPIERS AND GAMBLERS**

I exist in a world divided into two parts: _the croupiers_, those who stand behind; who look from the distance and are in charge—also are voyeurs of complicity, full of nothing and condemn to exist only to see people lose.

And then, there are _the gamblers_ who are no different from the croupiers. The only difference is that they don't care. They don't care if they lose, they don't care if they win. Gamblers are dangerous.

That's why I do not gamble. EVER. But I don't care either.

"Eleven double? Ten, twenty-one… you win." See, the man in front of me is elated, he just won.

I like to feel the tacit pain, call me sadistic but I like their faces when they lose—maybe because it's easy for me to try to understand why they are so miserable when they have pained faces. But in reality... I don't care. Well, I didn't want to care anyway.

"Twelve… too high you lose."

"Eight. Another? Nine… Seventeen too low; you lose."

This man, in front of me, is not looking at me. He's imagining things; ways of how to lose his money. Like how a man imagines ways on how to make a woman cum. A beautiful woman. _That_ has never happened to me.

You see, I have this condition, which is a curse and a blessing too. Asperger syndrome is so low-rated and not well-known that I can't just explain in a simple sentence what it is to other people.

But it's really simple, I tried to abstract my thoughts and I came up with this definition, this concept: emotionally blind.

"Edward, 'Ludenberg'." That's Max, the other croupier, giving me the keyword that means it's time to change croupiers—that my shift has ended—and to begin counting the winnings from my shift. I remove myself from the table and direct my languid body to the dresser.

My shift ends at 8pm sharp, which allows me to take the bus home at 8:15. I'm telling you this because it's important to this story. Before 9:30pm, I'm home—_always—_andmy rituals and routines are utterly important to my life, they put control over it.

My '_condition'_ is not that obvious to people—I try not to make it that obvious. And, nobody cares really. I'm always quiet. I function. I answer. I laugh when they tell a joke. I smile when I need to be polite. But I've learned all of these emotions from what others do. I _copy_ them.

Ever since I was a kid, I was confused about what people wanted from me. That they cried and I didn't know why... I didn't event know that they were crying—like a physical disassociation disorder, but within emotions. I was blind and I was scared. My parents never bothered to treat my sickness, until first grade.

Honestly, I don't know how I've made it so far, I was always good in counting, I guess. My teacher Mrs. Marshall saw something different in me and talked to my parents about it. They made some tests and then after months and months of more awful tests, they came up with this type of autism. I didn't know if they were relieved or scared. I couldn't tell.

My mom was supportive, I guess. Sending me to a special school. But, honestly, I didn't fit. Even if the teachers were specialized, I still couldn't fit. So, I completed my education at home.

My mom was a stay at home mom; so she helped me with my education till I was 16. Then I was all by myself. I applied for high school and tried to go, but again, I didn't fit. So, I just gave up and kept learning at home. And by learning, I mean learning about emotions too.

It was really hard at first—really difficult. My mother cried every night because I just couldn't express emotions. Not because I didn't feel anything, but because I couldn't define one specific emotion and express it.

It's exactly like blindness. Imagine that you have never had been able to see; and then somebody tries to explain the color red to you… yes, that's how I felt. How I still feel.

I've resigned myself long ago to a life without empathy. I cared—I still do, I can't help it. I watch movies. I listen to music. I do _everything_ a normal person does. Only to find out that emotions are repetitive. Fear, happiness, sadness, sorrow, excitation, curiosity, etc.

I know what these things are. I've learned to recognize them depending the structure of the face and how the eyes move. But sometimes it's really hard and exhausting to tell. So, now I just don't do it anymore. I try to ignore people and see the rest of the humanity like faceless beings.

I'm a croupier, but this is the story of a gambler. And like I said, gamblers are dangerous because they don't care.

I wake up at 6am, run for an hour while it's still dark in Seattle and until I see the sunrise. I feel something, I don't know what it is. I guess it's good. I guess it's something that I want to keep feeling. Maybe it's happiness, but I'm not sure.

I return to my house and shower, trying not to look myself in the mirror. You see I have these rituals. I have a list, and these rituals define my life in a very sad and pathetic way, but I need them:

1) Don't wear red on Fridays.

2) Drink Orange juice on Mondays, grape juice on Tuesdays, apple juice on Wednesdays, pineapple juice on Thursdays, and water on Fridays.

3) Don't put your shoes on the bed, only on a chair.

4) Always make my bed.

5) No clothes on the bed.

6) While taking a shower, wash hair 3 times, wash body 2 times. Use a different soap to wash my feet and use a different towel to dry my feet.

7) Brush my teeth 5 times a day.

8) Don't look at myself in the bathroom mirror after taking a shower (strictly only the bathroom).

In my life I've had many, many rituals. This neurosis had changed a little bit, but basically they're the same.

I need to eat something. Today is Wednesday. So it's apple juice; one glass—that's flexible, it's not limited, which means that I can change it, but I still prefer it this way—1 apple, scrambled eggs, 2 toasts and a cup of coffee taken with 2 cubes of sugar and no cream.

I dress myself and spend my morning reading, watching movies or listening to music. By 10:25am I head to work. I take my keys, my work ID, my sunglasses and I'm ready to go. My shift starts at 11am and ends at 8pm, with one hour lunch break.

Wednesday's are lazy days. Only 3 or 4 gamblers… Mrs. Jackson, the old lady who plays poker. Mr. Rodson, a man over thirty who plays blackjack. And Mr. Tshi who is about fifty years old and plays blackjack as well. Those are the regular ones. They never fail to make it. They're always there. And that makes me feel at peace. No change. Reliability. Something I don't have much of these days.

When I get to work, I see the three gamblers, plus one. A young woman. Beautiful, long dark hair, and that's all that I can tell.

"Table?" I ask Jasper, my manager. He just nods towards the table which the new woman is sitting at.

I stand in front of the table and say my monologue, "Good morning—or good day, depending on the time of the day—I'm Edward, I will be your croupier. Good luck." All that is said in my monotone voice because I don't have another way to say it. She looks at me and I nod. I start mixing the cards and then deal them on the table.

"Eight. Another?"

"No," she says.

"Ten. Another?" She nods.

"Ten. Too low, you lose."

Half an hour later, the woman has lost two thousand dollars. I try to look at her to try to figure out what she's feeling, but I see nothing. She looks at me and I think she's trying to communicate something to me, but I don't understand.

Two hours later, between winning and losing, the woman have lost a total of five thousand and four hundred dollars. She stands up, looks into my eyes and leans her body so that now she's standing in front of me with her face just inches from mine.

"You are a fucking robot." She looks at me, trying to find something that obviously is not there.

Robot… yeah, not likely! At least they don't feel a thing. I feel everything. I don't know what to say. I just stare and then I feel it… something… different in her eyes and in her expression, in the form of her body, in her voice. Oh her voice. Then I feel scared. Like from the time when Father took me with this middle-aged woman to _'make a man out of me_'. I felt something then I had an orgasm. And I could tell that because my father told me so. It was the only thing my father taught me. Nothing more.

It was simple and quick. I wasn't really excited like my father told me I would be. I didn't even know what _excited_ was. But now I felt... I don't know what it was, but it was better than sunrise and a warm breakfast. Better than a hot shower… even better than doing my rituals.

I'm not a retard—well, maybe only emotionally—but I knew that I liked her. I knew it was attraction. It's just that… it felt so different from the movies and other women that I've been with.

"No. I'm not," I say with sincerity.

"I know you're not." she takes a look at my ID, then at my face, and says really slowly, "_Doucheward, _it was a rhetorical question. God!"

Then she walks away to another table. She stayed here at the casino, she even ate here.

I am with Mr. Tshi, a really quiet man who was good for me. But I keep looking at the new woman. She was winning; and every time she won, she'd turn in my direction and… fuck! I don't know. I guess she was trying to tell me something. I was getting frustrated, so I just stop staring, hoping she would just go away.

At 8pm, when my shift ends, Max comes up and say "Ludenberg". I say my 'goodbyes' and go to my dresser. It was 8:10pm, I had five minutes to go outside, cross the street and wait for my bus. It was plenty of time if you ask me.

I'm walking by the door when I hear a women yelling at a croupier. I look over my shoulder to see the young woman walking towards me—or maybe the door. I stay there and when she stomps towards me, she looks me in the eye and yells.

"Fucking move! This fucking place is sucking me dry! Move, _fuck_ it!" And I move, because even _I_ know that she was yelling and not happy.

She exits the door and tries to call a taxi, but the street was empty. I just stood there. I try to figure out if she was pissed or tired or sad—or all of the above. She turned around and again her brown eyes trapped me in a non-existent world. A world with no name. I step outside and look at my clock 8:14pm, One minute, plenty of time to cross the street.

She asks me, "You have a car?" I was scared. Was _this_ a rhetorical question too? I don't think so, I hope not.

"No."

"How do you go home?"

"Bus," is all I could possibly say, because I was confused and it has been a long time since I've had a non-work conversation.

"Really? You don't speak much, do you?"

"No?" And I say in a form of question because I don't know if it was the right answer.

"Shit, I need to go home like now! You have a cell phone? Mine is… it's just… not on me right now." I just stare.

"Do. You. Have. A. Cell phone?" Do I have one? No, I don't.

And in that exact moment my bus passes by. And I feel bad. _Really_ bad. Not exactly aware of what kind of bad feeling it was… that's why I try to avoid things that are not in my control, because I have these… tantrums. These panic attacks, and I just… I lose it.

I start screaming and cursing and tearing my hair. It was all automatic like in the movies when something goes wrong. I try to sound conflicted, but I don't know if it was ok. She regards me with a different face that I couldn't figure out.

"What's wrong with you? It's just a fucking phone for Christ's sake!" I just blink.

"Shit! I can't go back to the casino; I will rip that croupier's head off if I go back."

"Why?" I ask with real, genuine curiosity.

"What? No, I was talking to myself. God, YOU ARE STUPID!" And I knew that she knew. And I felt something that was not good.

She starts walking on the sidewalk; and in evidence that I've lost the last bus, I follow her. I didn't even care where, I just do.


	2. Chapter 2: A new kind of neurosis

**A/N: **

**Sorry for the waiting, I promise that my next chapter will be in this week. haa This story is going to be around 23 or 25 chapters. If you have questions about the Asperger condition you can ask me or wiki it. Thanks for the reviews I´ll try to reply but I'm really really busy at work. Thank you for you support.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN TWILIGHT, STEPHANIE MEYER DOES**

**Rating M for Mature language, sex and violence (the best stuff)**

**CHAPTER 2: A NEW KIND OF NEUROSIS**

It was almost 9 p.m. when she stopped, just as I was wondering of how long we would keep going. She doesn't notice me since I was far behind—by a block or two. And if she did notice me, I couldn't tell.

I am standing in front of a building, like an apartment building. She enters and I just stay there until I see a light turn on the fifth floor. Then twenty minutes passes; and the lights turn off. I notice that I'm not that far from home; maybe a twenty-minute walk.

At 10:12 p.m. I make it home. I am tired and I don't know… conflicted? I just have this range of emotions that I couldn't slice fit any more of it… good, bad or conflicted. That is it, and that was all I'd ever needed before… until now. I couldn't sleep, but I start my day the same way. When I arrive at work, I look for the young woman but she's not there.

By 2 p.m., I am with Mr. Rodson, dealing cards really fast and oblivious to the world around me. I am also counting cards, which is my hobby. Then she appears; and suddenly, I feel so lost and so rotten in my soul that I'm aching—a physical ache throbbing at the back of my neck and in my legs. Pain, lots of pain.

I excuse myself because my lungs start hurting. I make the croupier change—which I've never made between turns, if I didn't need to go to the bathroom. Jasper sees me and is following me. Meanwhile, I am trying to reach the men's room. I enter and take a lot of stuffy-rancid-reciclyed-Casino-air in and splashed water on my face.

I don't know what is happening to me. It feels so weird and awkward. And yes, I guess that's how physical attraction feels like; a _strong_ physical attraction. I see Jasper from my peripheral vision.

"You feel sick, Edward?" I turned around feeling so lost. I don't know what to answer. Yes I feel sick, but I don't know why. Well, I did know why, but I don't know if it was real or not.

"I needed air."

"What's wrong? You feel sick?"

"No. I don't know…" Because I really don't know.

"Ok. I… if you need anything, just tell me, Ok?" I just nod, splash more water on my face and feel a little better.

When I am outside of the men's room, I take another breath and go to my table. She is there now. When she sees me, she stops talking to the waiter and waits for me to deal the cards.

"You know, Doucheward… the other day you gave me bad luck. If I lose this game, I will go to that table," she says cocking her head towards Tyler's table, the other croupier. Something in me snaps and I start to count cards.

"Ten another?" She looks at me, and I just stare back as if saying in my eyes, _'yes, yes! Say another one, please_,' because I know that she has 69% probability to win. So she nods in response. She knew that I was saying 'yes'. And that is different. Nobody ever in my life had ever been able to tell what I was thinking or feeling. Maybe it was a guess, maybe it was luck; but she looked at me and she knew. And I knew.

"Ace… you win." She smiles. I guess because she just won. And I really like how she smiles. It feels warm and good… so good. And I find myself smiling too, really lightly, barely there but it's been a long time since I had an authentic smile. I am happy. I know, I could tell. And I am eager to explore it further, because I've never felt more alive in my life.

She gets tired and goes to the bar. I keep an eye on her. She doesn't look at me—not once. She is talking to Michael, the bartender. She eventually leaves around 6 p.m.; and I wonder how a woman like her can spend her time in this hole. She could be with a man, a boyfriend perhaps, or have to work or study something. But no, she was here. And on the inside, I know that all the old feelings were starting to rise up in me.

Days pass and she doesn't come anymore, I was… sad? And I guess disappointed. I start to pay more attention to people. It has been years since I haven't paid attention to people's behavior. I start to talk more with my co-workers, testing my words and my behavior with them. In the week that she had been gone, my interactions were semi-normal; and I am right again on track.

After exactly twenty-two days, she appears again. This time she isn't alone. An old man in his fifties is with her. Now, maybe I can't read people's emotions, but I can absolutely read their body language. And theirs say that it is not one of a father-daughter one. They've had a relationship.

I am tense and alive and I can feel all over again, with her. She doesn't see me, or even acknowledge me in any way. She is with that man playing and playing. I am… anxious. These are new emotions that I've never experienced before because I didn't have anybody to experience them with. Nobody that I really cared enough about to have them before. Now they are surging in a painful and odd way.

When she is leaning in on that man, I almost throw the cards to the floor, but I quickly restrain myself and stay in check. At the end of my shift, she is still there and I just go home. I don't know if it were a good idea to start "awakening" again. I was a numb person in a numb place. But at that the moment, she comes to my mind. I feel that I don't have a choice, so it's better do it the right way.

The next day, she doesn't show up. And I feel bad… really bad, depressed, sad, angry… _jealous_? Yes, I guess I don't want to know—but I feel bad in general. I think that I couldn't wait another month just to see her. I know where she lives; and this crazy and psychotic idea starts to form in my mind.

I actually wait two days, by the third day my mind is made up. I wait for my shift to end, and it takes a toll on me to work the courage not to take the bus at 8:15, because that would mean that my life isn't in control anymore—that my rules weren't safe and my life was a methodic chaos again. But I think she is worth it.

I walk to her apartment, and by 8:43 p.m. I am in front of her building. It's cold, so I just make myself comfortable on a bench in front of her apartment building, rubbing my hands with my legs and my torso. Her lights are on; and I thank God for it. It occurs to me that maybe I could… go into the building just to avoid the cold weather. But I knew better. It wouldn't be because of that. I take a chance and push at the building's door, and to my surprise, it swings open. This neighborhood seems quiet, but I was the last person to be a judge of its safety.

I see the stairs and just jump to the first step. The rest is like butter under my legs. I take one after another until I am on the fifth floor. There were two doors; numbers eleven and twelve. I wonder which she'll be in. I press my ear to door number eleven—to my right—and don't hear anything. Then I do the same with number twelve—to my left—and I could hear two women chatting and laughing… at least that much I knew.

I don't know what I was doing, only that I am standing at her door. Suddenly, behind number eleven, a sound interrupts me from my thoughts and I can hear her voice—because that was the same voice that soothed me. I don't know what I was thinking, or why I was here? What was my purpose? Damn! Like I care, I just need to see her. Just a quick glance.

I hear her voice getting louder. I chicken out and hide behind the stairs door. I see her open the door, a plastic bag in one hand and a phone in the other.

"Wait… I need to take out the garbage… wait, ok? I'll be right back." She throws the phone inside the house and I could hear the noise from the phone crashing against something. She makes a disapproving sound, then starts walking towards the stairs and I panic. I descend the stairs as quickly as I can and hide in the shadows. She is right behind me, but doesn't see me… I think. She opens the building door, goes outside for a couple of minutes and then gets back inside without the bag.

That was the first time I stalked her; and not the last one. God! I was sicker than I would have ever thought.

Every time I went to her house, I go upstairs, hear one conversation or two, if she was on the phone, say 'goodbye' in my mind and walk back to my house. By 10 p.m., I was home—sickly satisfied that I saw her or heard her that day.

This is bad. _Really_ bad. This was a new kind of neurosis that was making my life more miserable than it already was.

Ten days passes and she comes back to the casino. On a Friday. She is again with a man, a different one, this time. One in his forties. This time when she sees me, she starts walking towards me. I feel sick and nervous. I bite my lip and start dealing cards. She sits in front of me, and I try counting cards to take the edge off my nerves. Eventually, at 7:40 p.m., the table is almost empty, occupied only by her and a middle-aged woman.

I am counting cards while looking at her. She is looking at me, but I can't figure out anything. Like always. Max comes up to me and 'Ludenberg's me for the night. I go to my dresser as always. After I'm done with my business, I start taking off my uniform when I heard heels approaching. And I just freeze.

"You. Were. Counting." She says. It isn't a question. I look around in the dimly-lit room, to see if there was somebody else. She's standing in the hallway. Since it is darker in the hallway, I couldn't see her until she takes a step and appears from behind the shadows.

"Did you?" I hear the inflection in her tone and recognize it as a question.

"Yes." Because I was.

"You are incapable of lying, aren't you?" I didn't catch her tone, but I think her question was rhetorical. I hoped so.

I wait for her next move, because I couldn't move for the life of me. She walks a few steps and sits on the bench. I know that if somebody from the Casino Personnel sees us like this, they would think the worst. The work rules were strict; that we can't talk to or with gamblers in or out of the building.

"So… you do that often? You play?" I do that often? Yes. I play? No.

"I count. I don't play."

"Never? Like, _never_ _ever_?" Well… God, I can't concentrate when I'm looking at her legs… or her _cleavage_… Answer you, _idiot_!

"Sometimes, at home… with Dad." It was true.

"You gamble?"

"Never." She makes a face. I furrow my eyebrows trying to understand, maybe it was curiosity? Oh, I am tired. So tired.

"Well, I saw you out there and I was _impressed_. You are really _fast_! The best croupier I've seen in my life as a gambler." She laughs an easy laugh. It was easy, I know what it means, right? She stands up in front of my face, like from that time when she told me the 'robot' thing.

"You are cute. But kinda slow. How old are you?"

"Twenty-five."

"How long have you been a croupier?"

"A while. Three years, I guess."

"Mmmm, I'm Bella." she extends her hand. I know this gesture. I did the same thing.

"Edward," I introduce myself.

"So, Ed-ward…" Her tone is strong and she changes her tone in the last part.

"Have you ever thought of being a professional poker player? You play poker, right?"

"Yes, I play. And no, I don't plan to be a professional player."

"Well, let me tell you. You have the style. You act like a robot. You count, I can't even tell what you are thinking. Well, sometimes, like now—right now—you are scared, like _shitless_. Maybe because I'm a woman, right?"

"I… I… I don't know."

"I think with proper training you can play like a pro. Are you interested?" Was I? Maybe I was more interested in being with her—or knowing her—I just couldn't talk.

"Well, this is my card, with my mobile number on it. If you wanna try it, call me sweetypie." She leans into my face and kisses me on the cheek, while her hand meets my hand to put the card in it. And then she starts walking towards the exit of the dressing room. After that, I see Jasper enter and I hide the card in my pants' pocket.

"Edward? Ms. Swan was here?" His tone tells little about his mood.

"Bella… Bella was here," I say it without hesitation.

"Right… Bella Swan. So… was she lost? What did she want?" I know I can't say the truth, so I just lie, because I was a good liar.

"She was lost." Jasper looks at my eyes, searching, but I know that he can't find anything.

"You know… I thought that she was here hooking up with you." He smiled, I wasn't in trouble anymore.

"No, she was just lost."

"Man, chillax! I'm not judging you, but you know the rules. She is pretty, isn't she?"

"Yes." Oh more than pretty.

"But, man… those kinds of women are way out of our league. She is a gold-digger and loves gambling men into perdition. So, no thanks."

"What do you mean with 'perdition'?"

"You know, she's always with a different guy every month… old ones. She dries them up and then leaves them. I've never seen this girl with a younger man. So… maybe she has daddy issues," he tells me with a smile showing all his teeth. I had millions of questions, but I needed to think first and use the filter between my brain and my mouth.

"So, you know her?"

"Oh, hell no. I wish! But she's a frequent and she speaks with Marvin. He told me that she's really sweet, but is always looking for someone with money to pay for her luxuries, like gambling, which is really sad, since she is so young."

"How old is she?"

"Wow… wow! You like her, don't you?"

"I think that she's pretty, I think that she's too young too."

"I don't know man. I only know that she is a barely legal. I bet that she started gambling in high school, and was waiting to turn twenty-one to go to the big leagues."

"She is good. Wins 61% of the times." I say.

"61%? Shit! How do you know that?"

"I… like to count."

"I bet you do, don't tell the boss I told you this, but I count cards too, from time to time."

"Randy said he'd let me count, he said that as long as I don't fuck with the Casino, it would be ok. And he knows that I don't gamble."

"Really? Have you ever tried gambling before?"

"No, I don't gamble. Ever."

"Ok, man, I understand. That's good. Gambling is a death trap, like this Bella girl. Oh, man, I've seen in my six years here the most horrific balances of debts. There was this guy who had lost 137,000 dollars. He sold his house and even his daughter's car. And there's this woman, you don't even want to know what happened to her but it was brutal. I think that if this girl doesn't care of herself, she will end up that way, and she is just a pretty girl." His words stung. I start to worry, thinking all the horrific things that she was exposing herself to, gambling and losing. She had a good gust of wind, but that was spreading it thin. I need to help her, somehow… someway.


	3. Chapter 3: The Wrong Method with The Wro

**THE WRONG METHOD WITH THE WRONG TECHNIQUE **

So there I was, standing in front of her door. Contemplating what? I don't know. If she had opened the door, she would be surprised—not that I would recognize that in her. Not that I would do anything about it, I was just there with my numb limbs, waiting, thinking, aging and desperate to tell her that I wanted to touch her. I didn't know exactly what I would say. Nothing perhaps… maybe I would freak out and run. But I knew that I just wanted to finish _this_. To forget about it and just let it go. But I couldn't. I had her card in my pocket which I was rubbing between my fingers. I was sure that by now, the card was just a useless piece of paper with unreadable words and numbers on it. I could hear her steps echoing inside, her body moving around making meaningless, random moves and random sounds. She was there and existed; and that was the best and the worst realization in my stalking days.

I went home, eventually. Yes, I still had my routine to do, but my life was only fulfilled with her and her presence. It was funny really how a person can absorb you and make you meaningless without them. Right now, everything in my life is linked to her; and every action she takes has an effect on me. As if I were the unwanted driver in her self-driven car—I was powerless to her driving and to her actions. I thought about calling her to accept her offer. I even didn't feel awkward or stupid thinking about it, but it felt like it was pointless. Besides, I didn't have the strength to approach her in that way. I was so tunnel-vision-ed that my mind couldn't calculate how to work originally anymore.

I went to the Casino with a skimpy will. And of course, the first thing I saw was her. She was there. I felt satisfied and scared, but since she was at my table, I needed to act professional. Right? _Right_.

"I want to play poker. Do you mind dealing poker?" she asked as soon as she saw me.

"This is only a blackjack table, ma'am," I answered grandly.

"Of course, it is. Look, can you just change tables and go to one of the poker ones? I really think you are my lucky charm." I looked at her trying to convey in my eyes that wasn't a good idea.

"Come on. Do it for me. _Please_?" And she looked at me with those brown eyes that I kept dreaming of. And I just couldn't say 'no'.

"Wait for me at that table." I pointed to the poker table to my left. She nodded and stood up. I went to Jasper.

"Jasper, can I ask you a favor?"

"A favor? That's new. Ok, ok, what's up?"

"You see… Ms. Swan asked me to deal her cards, but she wants to play poker."

"But you are dealing blackjack this month, boy."

"I know, but she asked, and…"

"And you don't want to disappoint her, right?"

"Well, I think it's good for business if she keeps playing. She asked for me, _especially…_" and I felt proud and awkward telling Jasper all this.

"Right… well, Randy is not here, so maybe I can pass this by."

"Thank you, Jasper, I owe you one." _I said that because it's what people say when they make a favor, right?_

"Hey, Cullen!" I was on my way when I heard Jasper calling me by my family name.

"You know the rules, man. Don't hang out with her. Keep things professional, ok?" And I nodded, because I understood and that sucked.

She looked thoughtful while I prepared the table. I was looking at her too, shifting my sight between the cards and her. Like counting, I was trying to anticipate her moves and contemplate a strategy in case things change.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Shoot!" she said, without looking at me.

I dealt five games of which she won four. She was good. Very good. But not as good as me. She made a few mistakes. I started to assemble her facial expressions to try to relate it to a familiar expression. She seemed sad.

"Are you ok?" I didn't know why I asked her that, but she was evidently frustrated and sad. I just wanted to know.

"No." I dealt a card.

"You are winning. If you keep it that way, I'm going to lose my job." She looked at me and smiled.

"I hope so…" I stared at her, trying to comprehend why she was hoping something that bad to happen to me, when I haven't done anything bad to her.

"So then you can work for me."

"Work for you? How?" As weird as it seems; losing my job and working for her was one of the fantasies that I had as soon as she gave me her card. Hearing her saying it was a dream come true. A fantasy that I didn't want to be broken even though I knew fantasies are not good once you open the Pandora box. This case wasn't any different.

"Gambling, of course. We can make a lot of money." I'd never been interested in money. My family was wealthy enough, and as a child, I lived well. Now, I was reluctant to accept the money from my father because I never needed it anymore, but still they wouldn't budge. I took care of myself working here, trying to be a part of something as much as possible. What she was implying was something that I swore never to do. So, why did this proposal sound so good? Because it had something to do with her.

"How much?" I couldn't ask anything else. Asking her about how exactly my interaction with her would be… or how much time we will be spending together wasn't politically correct.

"I don't know, thousands? if we go to Las Vegas or the big leagues, hundreds of thousands."

"I don't know. I don't gamble. It's dangerous." I started to remember when my father knew my ability with numbers at five years old. I was a calculator, retaining almost four thousand numbers without forgetting any of them in my head. My record was 3,987. I also solved difficult equations without help. I was—and still am—very good with anything to do with memory, logical behavior and Math. Then my affection for cards came; and he knew that if somebody knew this, they would take advantage of me, because he thought that I was too weak to say 'no' to anybody since I was always so scared around people. But as I grew up, he understood that it was only a charade; that I wore a mask to protect myself from the cruelty of people. Still he made me promise that if I wanted to play cards, he was willing to help me find a job related to it; and that I will never gamble. Only with him and without a bet of, course. He found this job for me; and I was happy and controlled. But now? No, not any more.

"No, it's not if you are smart enough," she answered.

"I promised my father to never do that," I said that because I was like a bomb ready to crash, and hoping to never ever land on her shores. I said that with hope that maybe she felt pity of me to let this thing go. But she didn't and I was so thankful for that.

"He doesn't need to know, so… are you interested?" she kept pushing and pushing. And I had no will of my own. Not with her, anyway.

"How does it work?" She stopped playing and stared at me.

"Ok. Let's do this, Edward. Do you still have my card?" Yes. _Barely,_ I thought. My pulse rose when she said my name, I was dazed and happy.

"Yes, I think so," I said, blinking too much.

"Good. I'll wait for your call today, after your shift ends, and let's start from there. What do you think?"

"Ok." She kept playing and I kept punching myself mentally for accepting. I couldn't wait to call her. Finally, at 8 p.m., Max came and she stood up at the same time. She wasn't there when I came out of the lockers. I went home, had dinner and sat in front of my TV which was turned off. I put her card on the little table in front of me, the numbers were almost there and the corners were torn. _**What the hell!**_ I took the card and went outside to a payphone, because I didn't have my own phone. I dialed the digits. Beep. Nothing. Beep. Nothing. Beep.

"Hello?" I hung up. I crashed the phone against the transparent booth and started hitting the phone with my fist. Realizing my weakness of wanting to hear her voice, but the fear of confronting her in real life; I stared at my fist and I realized that it was the first most normal, manly and emotionally-tuned reaction that I've ever had, or done. This normality and beautiful confliction in me was worth the shame? The reluctant heart? The pain? Broke a promise? Yes.

I dialed again. Beep. Nothing. Beep.

"Yes?"

"It's me. Edward." I closed my eyes, waiting for her reaction. Did she know I just called and hung up on her? Yes, she did.

"You are late. It's almost 10 p.m. Did you just call?"

"Yes, I was having second thoughts." I could have lied, but I didn't, because it was pointless with her.

"Well, if you are calling, I think it means that you got rid of them. So… to business, I'll give you my address. Can you come?"

"Now?" I asked, almost amazed about her confidence and terrified of the imminent encounter.

"Yes, Edward, now. We can't postpone this. We have like five months before the Blackjack tournament starts; and we need to be ready and practice." It was a lot of information that I didn't try to swallow. I was willing to accept whatever she was going to do with me; use me or take care of me. It was all the same as long as she was with me. She gave me the address, which, of course I knew already. I was in front of her door at 10:22 p.m.. It has been a while since I was there, a couple of days; an eternity to me. I knocked and she immediately answered. She didn't invite me to enter, instead, she got out of her apartment and closed the door behind her.

"About time! I almost fell sleep. Let's go." She took my hand and my eyes all but popped out of their sockets like cartoons. While we descended, she kept holding my hand until we were at the front door of the first floor.

"Where?" I asked, really only for costume; and because of the little bit of decency left in me; and of which my mother would be ashamed.

"For a coffee, it's going to be a long night."

We walked a few blocks; and stopped at a 24-hour café.

"This coffee tastes like shit, really. But will do the work."

We were seated in a booth with black synthetic leather, waiting for the waitress.

"Ok, this is going to sound weird or intrusive, but I need to know. Do you have a wife?" Her question was unusual and intrusive indeed, but I answered.

"No."

"Ok, what about an ex-wife?"

"No."

"Good, because ex-wives are the best fucking way to end a man's life; the pension and all that shit." I couldn't even understand how she came up with this conclusion, but something told me that it was important.

"I see… no, nothing like that." The waitress came and she ordered a black coffee and I ordered the same.

"So, basically I need to see how you work under pressure. If I like what I see, then I will be like your agent or your manager or whatever. I will arrange the games since I have lots of contacts."

"But, won't you play? I thought that we were going to be like partners?"

"No, I can't… control myself."

"So, you think I can?"

"You seem controlled and you don't do it for the rush or the money. You are weird like that."

"You think I'm weird because I like cards?"

"I think that a person with your talent is wasting his life working in a three-star casino and you know it. That, or you like the cards too much and you are a loser?"

"Maybe both?"

"No, no. You are different. I can see potential in people. If my father had taught me something in this life, it was how to recognize the potential in people and how to use it."

"So, you are going to use me." It wasn't a question, but a statement because I was aware that I hadn't the strength to fight her.

"You'll be getting a lot of money off of me '_using'_ you. I don't think it's unfair or a bad thing to you. A little immoral, yes. But not that much." I too thought that nothing was unfair when it was related to her.

"Where do we start?" I asked expectantly. The coffees came and I took a sip of mine. _Shit_ indeed.

"We are going to play right now." She stuck her hand in her coat pocket, looking for something.

"How long?" I needed to know. I had work the next day.

"Until I'm convinced, of course."

"Of what?"

"That you are useful or not." I didn't know if it made me a less human being when she said those things to me; because obviously I didn't care. I thought that my time with her was too precious to waste it in pointless thoughts.

"Ready? I brought my deck of cards. Let's play." She unpacked the cards and shuffled them.

"Blackjack." I said.

"Is that your strong point?"

"I don't know. I like it better."

"Ok, we will try later with poker."

"Ok."

She started to deal the cards.

"Another?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Twenty-one. That's weird… you won." She was impressed.

"Yes."

"But, how? You weren't counting, were you?"

"Probability that's all I win," I said to her with a smile, trying to look calm.

"Oh… I can barely count. Percentages are too difficult for me. My strong point is poker and reading faces. I'm very good at it." Yes, I knew that much.

She kept dealing and I kept winning.

"Ok, how do you do it? I just can't understand. It's so fast. I deal _so_ fast. What if I change the packs of cards for a new one? What if I use two packs or three?" she teased me.

"I still can do it."

"Let's try. Lucky me, a gambler always needs to carry two packs of cards just in case."

She unfolded the other pack and mixed the cards again and started to deal. I kept counting 52x2= 104 cards, taking 3 cards that makes 44200 possible combinations and 265200 permutations. I didn't need to memorize the combinations and permutations; this was different. I didn't have a limit. I was calculating and working fast in fractions of a second. Like one plus one to stratospherical levels made in mere seconds.

I won one game after another, before she suddenly stopped.

"This is… what are you?" I couldn't read her face, she was surprised or scared?

"I don't know what do you mean?"

"I've never… where have you been all this time? It's just crazy. You count and do this crazy shit calculating probabilities in your head. I've never seen someone do this before, not this fast at least. And you've won each and every game we've been playing." She checked her watch, "almost four hours straight! You are like a genius or something?"

And in that moment it occurred to me that she didn't know my 'condition'; that I was close to a robot or an emocionally handicapped man. What if I told her? What if she thinks less of me? She thought I had potential. If I were to say the truth—that I have this problem—she would make fun of me or worse she would leave me. I can't afford that. I can't tell her that I can't read emotions; that I can count numbers as a side-effect to my not-so-pleasant condition. She will think I'm a less of a man. A freak. She will reject me. So, I made the choice of not telling her, ever. And I hoped that she never would find out.

"Something like that." _It wasn't that bad, just a little lie. It wasn't that far from the truth, I was just saying that I was really smart, because I am. I only left out some of the truth behind. So, no damage and nobody gets hurt. She is appeased and I'm content with what she's offering. A win-win situation by 75% probability, give or take._ I was giving percentages to our relationship… _work_ relationship, if I might add. That's the way I did my emotional interaction; my introspection of how to deal with this situation. She didn't seem aware of my internal war. She just sat there smiling. I wished I could know what she was feeling; to read if she was happy, exited or being greedy or all of the above.

"Edward, we have a deal?" She extended her hand. I did the same.

"Deal." I said, happy and sleepy.

"Good, now we need to sleep. It's almost 4am, you are working today?"

"Yes, my shift starts at 11am."

"Fine. So, let's meet again today. Is it ok with you?"

"Yes, it's fine."

"Call me after your shift ends—as soon as you go out. Don't be late," she scolded me… I think.

"Yes, I will."

"Come on, let's go. I'll pay, and you'll walk me home?"

"Of course."

"Thanks. Today is a good day, Edward."

"Yes, Bella." I noticed that this was the first time I said her name in front of her. She noticed too and smiled. I knew two things about feelings in this life. One, they usually shift really quickly, two, they can only do harm. But now, I knew another thing; Bella's smile was capable of making me feel the happiest I've ever been in my whole life.

**End Notes:**

Ok you'll see more of Emotionless"Edward, because the idea it's not express too much, he is not perceptive, and if for a regular people read emotions it's hard, for Edward is really impossible, he is only guessing, so** maybe** what he said related with external human emotions (Bella) in here is not the reality at all, keep that in mind.


	4. Chapter 4: Proper Mannerisms

**Hey! I'm back and that's all thanks to my new Beta Dina (TwiDi), she is so dilligent and awesome. Thank you Dina.**

**I hope you are not disappointed with all the time I was away from this story, but I got in to school to study my master degree and let me tell you, those bastards from school are relentless. Anyway, let's continue with EB.**

**Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer.**

**CHAPTER 4: PROPER MANNERISMS**

My shift was boring. And since she wasn't there, my routines were the same. I kept in mind that during the day, my life needed to be the same with my routines and neurosis. But by night… she owned me. I didn't exactly know how I got here, or how I started to be so obsessed with her. Maybe it was physical; her small form, her hair, those eyes; or maybe it was the way she always was. The way she interpreted my behavior and how she could read me or maybe it just was inexplicable—for me at least. It didn't really matter any more. I was really an emotional train-wreck. From the inside, I was a wreck that couldn't stand this inability, and on the outside, I was certainly what Bella had told me the first time she saw me; A robot.

By 8:34 p.m. I was at her front door. I knocked twice. Then I heard a lot of noise of things falling. She opened the door with a blush on her face and sweat on her forehead.

"Come in, I was doing the dishes." She didn't look at me.

I entered her apartment and looked around. Everything was so neat and perfectly arranged; she had a bookshelf, and I noticed unfortunately that her books weren't arranged in the proper order—At least not like mine were, anyway.

"Hey, I'm going to make some dinner. Spaghetti ala Bolognese. Is that ok?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Thanks," I said while I stood in the living room looking around and just absorbing... her space.

"No problem," she said. Then she went to the kitchen through a double door.

Her apartment was big, but cozy. I could see three doors; and in front of the door was the table, by the door on the left was the living room. And she had these beautiful French doors in front of the dinning table. I stepped back and took another look on her bookshelf. I started taking books out and putting them on the floor. I rearranged half of the books, in less than 30 minutes, by alphabetical order; authors, genre and size. Just like mine were organized.

"What are you doing?" I turned around and she was standing at the dinning table with a casserole—which she put down when she asked me. I looked around and saw myself in the middle of piles of books. Ashamed, I just shrugged my shoulders and responded the best I could.

"I'm rearranging your books."

"Why?"

"Because I had to." And with that, she just raised an eyebrow and kept preparing the dinner table. When she finished, she sat and I could see in my peripheral vision that she was staring at me.

"Hey, the dinner is served. Won't you eat?"

"I... I _need_ to finish this." I emphasized on the 'need' part because I really did need it. I couldn't eat knowing that all that shit was not in proper order.

"But it's gonna get cold... the sauce."

"That's fine, I like cold sauce," I said, because it was true.

"Ok, if your sauce gets the flu, It's not going to be my fault."

"That's fine," I said.

"Let me just tell you that this behavior of yours is weird. But, if that were what makes you the genius—that I think you are—then I don't fucking care really." I didn't respond. She just ate quietly, looking at me.

I was done, after twenty minutes, just as she also was done with her food. I went to the table and sat down, my food cold, just how she told me it would be.

"I can reheat it for you, if you want me to?"

"No, that's fine, I'm ok."

"As you wish. I'm planning to make strawberries with whipped cream, if you like? You know, for dessert…"

"No, thank you. This is enough."

"Fine," she said, with a tone that I couldn't figure.

She went to the kitchen and came back five minutes later with a cup, which I supposed were the strawberries. She started eating and talking about trivial things; like her house and how much the rent cost. She talked about her neighbors, the rules of the apartment; like not being allowed to have dogs or cats—and she said that she'd always loved cats. But I was only concentrating on the food smudging her mouth, which was disgusting. She spoke and spoke with her mouth full of food; and I just started to freak out. I guess that this is how you lose your affection for somebody. These little things—noticing these little details—but really, I couldn't suppress what I felt about Bella. I didn't care if a fucking cow was being mutilated in her mouth as long as she was there. I was utterly lost. I accepted most of these things—most of the horrible manners she had—because she didn't care either. She was amazingly random.

"Ok. Time to work. So, I was planning on practicing on some online poker games." Online Poker wasn't my best choice, but I did it any way. She took her laptop and placed it on the table and sat beside me, really close, then leaned her body so the two of us were watching the screen. I was literally sweating like a pig.

"Look, it's really easy. Have you…? Never mind. I know you don't…"

"What?" I interrupted.

"Play online? I guess you don't. You are a prude."

"_Prude_? I don't know what you mean. But, no, I haven't played online," I said, surprised by her use of adjective.

"Yes, the orthodox players never play online. They think that it's not the same."

"And you think it is?"

"No. I think it's useful for practice, but not for winning money."

"Ok. So we are _not_ going to bet?"

"We need to bet, Edward," she told me in that new tone of hers.

"How much?"

"A couple of hundreds. Don't worry, it's on me."

The mechanism was really simple. You login, then enter a room and choose a player or a computer—we chose a player—then the game starts.

"It's really easy," I said.

"Yes, it is. This _is_ easy. Playing in front of people, however, with actual real people, is the hard thing. You know… the _bluff_?"

"You mean reading people is the hard thing?" _Tell me about it._

"Yes, it is. That and to concentrate in your game at the same time and predict what the other players have or will do." We kept playing. She let me play without instructions; my guess was that she was testing me. And because I was winning, suddenly, we received an invitation for a bigger bet from another gambler.

"We need to accept," she said.

"Why?" She looked at me and I was lost. Was she mad at me?

"Just do it." I clicked on the button and the game started. The bet was for a thousand dollars. I looked at her waiting for her response.

"Sweet! You can win Edward, just do your thing." I turned to the screen again and made my moves. After three passes I won.

She was bouncing in her seat and smiling. I looked at her, not knowing what just happened. She was hugging me and she even kissed my cheek. She was happy… I guess? But, why? I just sat there not reacting and silent. No… nothing.

"We just won a thousand Dollars! And you have that face?"

"What face?" I said, really scared. I was doing something wrong? Did she notice that I was a retard?

"That not-happy face."

"I don't know what you are talking about?" I said turning my face to the other side, so she won't see me.

"You are so weird. Or maybe actually, you give shit about money."

"I don't care about the money."

"Well, duh! That explains a lot of things. I do care. So, I'm superficial like that."

"I don't think you are superficial, Bella."

"Look, Edward, I know what I am. You don't need to be polite with me."

"Ok." I didn't understand her. I mean, I didn't understand anybody, but she was really difficult to read; more than anybody else. And that was both frustrating and exhilarating.

"Ok. So, a break? I need to plan with you our trip."

"What trip?" I asked, surprised.

"In two weeks, in Atlantic city there's going to be a Blackjack tournament. It's really minor, but it's perfect for you to practice."

"I don't need to practice."

"Yes, you do. Playing in front of hundreds needs practice."

"I don't know if I can travel. My work?"

"It's on Sunday. You work on Sundays?"

"No… only Mondays to Saturdays."

"Excellent!" she said, clapping her hands.

"We will return the same day?"

"Yes. Don't worry about the accommodations. My… Dad is going to pay for it."

"Accommodations? Like hotel and plain tickets?"

"Yes. My Dad has a… job with the FBI. And, unfortunately, he always sends me with bodyguards when I travel. He had received some threatening letters about me and you know… I made a deal with him, so _bodyguards_…"

"You are in danger?" I said with a pain in my chest.

"Not precisely. It's only routine. Look if bodyguards make you uncomfortable, you can take another seat in the plane away from us, or stay in another hotel."

"No! That's fine. I don't care. I just… I didn't know… actually, I don't know anything about you."

"There's nothing to know about me. I'm an only child. My mother died of cancer when I was ten. And my Dad is a bastard. I have _daddy issues;_ and I'm the black sheep of the family. I like to gamble and I've lost a lot of money. I mean, a _lot_. I'd been to rehab, but really that didn't work for me." I was stunned.

I knew that what she was telling me was important, but I was just too scared; and I didn't know what to say. I started to feel the panic rising in me.

"I need to go to the bathroom." She looked at me, opened her mouth and then closed it. And with her finger, she pointed to a door. I saw a door in the end of the living room and I walked towards it.

When I came back, she was writing something on a sheet of paper on the table.

"So, for the trip," she said, without looking at me.

"I need your name—full name—for the tickets and…" she stopped and then breathed deeply.

"Be right back." She stood up and walked away—and I couldn't see her face. I waited. And, in the mean time, I looked at what she was writing.

"Proper mannerism… robot… facial expressions… lack of understanding? Jackass?" I couldn't understand the meaning of those random words. She came back with her hair wet and her eyes a little bit puffy. Maybe she wasn't sleeping, or maybe was tired for being awake up late.

"You look tired."

"You think?" Her tone was different. She was different.

"I was reading what you wrote." She suddenly rushed to the table and took the paper out of my hands.

"That's personal! Those are my notes for poker and—"

"Robot? What does that have to do with poker?"

"Look, I know my thing, ok? You just… stay away from my notes. Besides, I need to teach you one or two things about facial expressions with poker."

"So, you think _I'm_ a robot?" She looked at me with those wide brown eyes, almost like a cartoon.

"No! Well, yeah! But I didn't write that thinking of you! I wrote that because it's how you need to be in the poker table."

"You told me the first time you saw me that I was a robot."

"Really? I don't remember. I don't remember that at all. But it's true. You are; and it's not a bad thing." That made me feel better because I thought that she was mad at me for being all quiet and emotionless.

"So, it's good?"

"For poker."

"Ok, so I'm good for poker?"

"Not precisely. Maybe you are good with bluffing. Maybe I need to see you doing it first. But I think that you are awful in reading facial expressions." Oh she didn't know how right she was.

"I think I have troubles like everybody else."

"Yeah, well, let's see about that. Do you know what are the proper mannerisms for poker?"

"No."

"Let me teach you." She explained to me how to read tics and eye movements when the players used sunglasses and when they were bluffing. Or when they were really good and didn't give any clues. She taught me really valuable things that I converted them to symbols, so my brain wasn't overwhelmed with all that information.

"So, what do you think?"

I had my opinion on that, but I didn't say it.

"Really interesting." Meaning: I think that Symbolic Logic can eliminate all that complicated and useless emotions that darkened the human language. It's easier to explain something with symbols than with language.

"So, you got it? Or you have questions?"

"I think I got it, but I don't know if I can do it. Actually doing it sounds complicated."

"It's because it _is_ complicated; and needs practice. I will teach you soon, not now though. I'm tired, maybe tomorrow?" She was trying to tell me to go home? Or was it my imagination?

"Oh, it's late? I should go."

"Yeah, you should go."

I stood up and she walked me to the door.

"So, tomorrow at 8:30? With dinner remember."

"Yeah, thanks for the dinner again."

"No problem." She was different. Her voice. Her tone. Her face was different. I did something, but what? I was dying—I needed to fix that, but I didn't even know what I did. Maybe because I wasn't happy with the money thing? Maybe because I just disappeared in the bathroom after she told me about her life? Maybe everything! I was so frustrated.

"Bella?" I didn't know what to say, so I just looked at her, trying to communicate my regrets.

"Yes?"

"Goodnight, sleep well."

"Yeah, you too." And then she smiled; and I did too.

When I got home, my mind was working double trying to know what I did to her. This impotence. This frustration was doing horrible things in my life. She was becoming the worst kind of obsession; and at the same time was the most exciting thing. I knew that I needed to win her in someway, but how?

**AN: **

**Chapter 5 is done , it just need corrections, I'll post it as soon as I can.**

**Reviews are nice :D.**

**Eve**


	5. Chapter 5: Deux ex machina

**Here we go again, thanks again to Dina my beta, she did wonderful things for this chapter.**

**Disclaimer:**

**Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer, I own the plot.**

**DEUS EX MACHINA**

Deus ex Machina

"God out of the machine"; plural: _dei ex machina_) is a plot device whereby a seemingly inextricable problem is suddenly and abruptly solved with the contrived and unexpected intervention of some new event, character, ability, or object.

She was far and near at the same time; far, because she was so different to me, so active, extroverted and strong. And, near, because in these seven days that have passed, we have seen each other every night, for work. She is patient, but stubborn. Sometimes she gets angry with me for no reason at all—or so I think. She is happy when we make money playing online, but it's still difficult for me understand a lot of things that she expresses in her beautiful face. Sometimes I lay in my bed thinking—no, fantasizing—of how I can tell her how I feel, but I'm a confident liar, who is not romantic, who is not amazing and interesting, that is damaged for good. She is perfect. Well, not perfect, perfect… but she is what I want. I never wanted anybody so much in my life. I have these destructive thoughts about how this is going to end. How she will find out that I'm not me. That I'm this shred of a man who can't express things; or read it in her face when she is sad or angry. I just can't give her enough. And she will leave, or treat me differently and stop seeing me as a genius but instead as an emotionally retarded human being.

I wish that I could wake up one day and say to her that I need her, but it sounds too weird. Even I know that. I try to act professionally with her; try to not stare at her neck or her wrist, or smell her… sometimes I fail and sometimes I can barely contain the urges to touch her. And she is there and she is so far.

I'm waiting on the bench in front of her building. I'm not stalking, I'm stalling. She invited some friends because today is her birthday; and she is making a celebratory dinner in her apartment. She said and I quote, "This is Alice's shit, I don't even remember my birthday any more, but you should come." I think those were her exact words, and that was her invitation. Because that's how Bella is, she is direct and doesn't care. She is raw and open, but at the same time, you can't see the real Bella until she is in this state that I only see when we talk about poker or black jack. And she is different, I don't know how, but she is. Though when she is at the casino, she is cold, cruel and sometimes she is childish and a little bit scary. But I haven't seen her in social circles, not with friends at least; and I'm nervous. Because maybe she can't tell that something is elementally wrong with me but maybe other people can. So that's why I'm stalling.

I bought her a gift that I found it online. It's a deck of cards with the most famous characters of literature of which she had told me a couple of days ago. She loved Kierkegaard, Cioran, Shakespeare and other authors, but she was a "sucker for the Austen and Bronte chicks". So, I bought this deck of cards with the characters of their books and other books. I'm afraid that one of them is called Edward too, what an awful and weird coincidence. I hope she doesn't think that I did it because of it.

I gulp noisily and head to her apartment. I know that there are people there; I've seen them going upstairs while I was… waiting in the bench.

When I'm about to knock, someone open her door.

"Hi, and who are you, hottie? you came for Bella's birthday?"

"I did. Sorry, hi, my name is Edward. Cullen Edward, I mean, Edward Cullen." She laughs and lets me in.

"Don't worry, Edward, you are cute when you ramble." I blush. She is tiny and has short hair. She is wearing a pink dress and my mind is so focused on the drapes of her skirt, I'm counting them, not that I was looking at her legs or something like that. Suddenly, she is taking me by my arm and guiding me to the dinner table. There are people there. I count them… 15. They are too many… too many for this apartment. I can't see Bella.

"Oh! You bought her a gift. Let me get her, so you can give it to her." She is nice, but too hyper for my taste. Well, at least she is looking for Bella, while I wait in here like an idiot.

"Do I know you?" I turn around, and I see a brunette, smiling at me.

"I don't think so." She is petit, like Bella, but her skin is darker and her eyes are green, also she is older.

"So, you are Bella's friend?"

"I guess?"

"You guess? Honey, you know or you don't?"

"I am then." She smiles.

"My name is Angela, I'm Bella's… friend too." She extends her hand and I do the same, introducing myself.

"Edward Cullen."

"So, you are _The_ Edward Cullen." I'm confused, what does she mean with that?

"Umm, do you know me or something?" She laughs.

"Bella is right, you are weird." I feel sick thinking that Bella refers to me as _weird_. Suddenly, I feel so sick and tired of all this people and the noise. God the noise! what is this music?

"Are you all right? I didn't mean to—"

"Edward! You made it!" Bella is approaching, but I only think of what that lady had told me. I'm weird. I shouldn't feel this way, I know. She knows. God knows. _So, let's not have a crisis about this_, I try to calm myself. I try to compose my self. Bella is eyeing me strangely.

"Are you…? Angela, what did you do?" Bella is angry I can tell and I'm confused. I don't think that coming here was a good idea—I should just give her the present and leave.

"Nothing! I was just introducing myself."

"Right." Bella takes my arm and we go to the kitchen.

"Listen, she is kind of crass sometimes; and can be really stupid when she opens her mouth. Don't listen to her." I just nod, I don't know what to say or do.

"Edward?" I look at her and she is frowning.

"I have a present for you" I say in barely a whisper.

"Really? No body gave me anything! You think with all these people that I could have one gift, but no." She smiles and I smile too.

"You shouldn't have, Edward, really."

"I wanted to, I… here. Let me give it to you, I hope you like it." She is smiling widely and bouncing. Her eyes are shinning. I put the box on the kitchen table and she takes it.

"What it is?" she asks, while she shakes the box.

"Just something I though you might like. It's nothing really… it's really stupid. I hope that you can use it or I don't know…" I'm rambling. I'm nervous. I know these feelings, they come often these days.

She tears the blue metallic wrap, throws the bow on the floor and then she stops. She sees the cover of the box and opens it slowly, as if were a bomb or something… and then she is really still and I'm scared.

"Do you like it?" I ask because I can't tell if she likes it or not. I get my response when she hugs me really tight and says in my ear, "Yes, yes. Yes. Yes…" I put my arms around her waist; and it's the first time that I've been this close to her. So warm and tiny. She smells like lilies and magnolias. I close my eyes and I hug her too.

"Bella?" A man's voice drifts to us. We detach from one another and I can see that Bella is crying, I don't know why. She smiles at me.

"Thank you, Edward." The man in the kitchen goes forgotten.

"Sure. You're welcome."

"This is so… nice and thoughtful. Where did you find it?"

"Bella?" the man in the kitchen is breaking the moment again; and I want to punch him.

"WHAT, JACOB?" She turns and yells at the man.

"What are you doing here hiding in the kitchen with this… guy?"

"I'm not hiding! I'm here _speaking_ with Edward—my partner—I mean, partner in _business,_ that is." She is blushing.

"Partner, huh?" He is tall and dark. I can't tell what he is to Bella, and suddenly I'm worried that he is her boyfriend.

"I… I should leave, really. I just came to give you this."

"No! No, wait. Just give me a sec." Bella walks towards Jacob and drags him by the jacket and go outside. I sit in the chair at the kitchen table and put my hands on my head. This was not a good idea. She is with somebody. I mean, she was with those old men before; maybe she found a guy that can give her what she wants. I doubt that she was with them for fun, maybe they were her benefactors?

The door opens and I'm relieved that it's Bella.

"Sorry about that. That was Jacob. He's one of the bodyguards. I didn't invited him and he is just worried about the new people. They are not often in here, but Dad is really a pain in the ass." Well, he is not her boyfriend… that's a relief.

"But, I haven't seen him before."

"Well, that's because I told Dad that I couldn't stand security. So, he relented for a while, but this is a special occasion, people are coming to the house and he suspects everybody."

"Why? Something is wrong?" I can't hide my concern. She sits in front of me and smiles.

"No, don't worry. It's just Dad. Nothing to worry about. He is doing it more for the babysitting than anything else. He doesn't want me to gamble again."

"But, you are doing it constantly. You go to the Casino 3 or 4 times at month."

"Wow, you do watch me, huh?" I blush, embarrassed by my admittance.

"Sometimes." She laughs.

"I'm kidding, Edward, but you do?"

"Well, I did notice you when you first came to the Casino."

"Is it because I'm the only person under 40 that goes there?" She laughs.

"Maybe…" Or maybe because you are the most amazing thing in the world. God, this is so difficult and stupid. I know that she is evading my original question and I don't want to push.

"I should go."

"Why!"

"I don't know, I don't want you to stay here all night with me."

"Of course not, you and me are going to go there and have some fun." She takes my hand and takes me to the living room where all the people is laughing, dancing or talking. The music is loud and she mingles with people; but I'm still attached to her like a dog. I follow, she leads. Of course, until I stumble to Angela.

"Hey, sorry about that," she says, while Bella is talking with a bunch of people and laughing.

"That's ok. You did nothing wrong." I'm not looking at her, I'm looking at Bella. And surprisingly enough, she is looking at me.

"What?" I know Angela told me something.

"I said, how long have you known Bella?"

"Oh, a couple of weeks… more or less, really."

"So, you are the genius, huh? She told me a little bit about you the other day."

"I'm not a genius, I just count cards." Angela frowns and takes a sip of her beverage.

"I see. So, you and Bella play cards together?"

"No. She doesn't play, I do."

"And, you bet?" I feel weird answering all these questions. I look at Bella and she is frowning too. She walks towards me.

"Angela, harassing my guest, again?" Bella says with a weird tone.

"Not at all, I was just talking to Edward about your _extra curricular_ activities." Bella looks at me and I think I did something wrong.

"What did you tell her, Edward?"

"I… I…"

"He said that he plays cards and you don't." Bella relaxes a little bit.

"Oh yeah, I'm teaching him. It's like I'm his tutor or something. It's really innocent." I don't call what we do—betting—innocent. And I think she is hiding something from Angela, obviously, and it's more than I think.

"Sorry, Bella, I just thought…"

"Don't worry, Edward. Angela, excuse us." Bella takes my hand. And I stare at our hands, they feel perfect and just right.

We are in a hall, going into a room of which she opens the door. It's Bella's room. It's purple and tidy. There's a TV and a white closet. It's really calming and I like this room.

Bella sits on the bed and pats the space on her side; and I sit there.

"Listen, Edward, I have something to tell you. I didn't want to say anything because this is nothing to do with what we do, but you should know." She takes a deep breath and looks at me.

"I met Angela a few years ago. She is my lawyer and my friend. She… I'm on parole, ok? I was in jail for a while." I'm surprised and I don't know what to do. So, I stay quiet until she says more.

"When I was 20, I met this guy who had loaned me money. I had this really good strike of luck; and I needed it to enter into a game. It was a good game, I did really well."

"You lost it?"

"Kind of… I won. I mean, I won the damned thing! But, something happened. One of the… people who had organized the game, found out that Dad was a Fed; and they thought that I was a spy or something… that the game was illegal, so they'd thrown me out without the money…"

"And the person who loaned you the money, put you in jail."

"Not exactly. The loan wasn't legal either," she says, cringing.

"So, what happened? I mean, you don't have to tell me, I think..."

"No, no, I need to. You should know. You will know eventually, if we are going to Atlanta, everybody in the circle knows about me. That's why I can't gamble anymore." I nod, trying to understand.

"He told me that I could pay my debt playing for him in another game, but this game was shady. The people in the game where really bad people; drug dealers, corrupt politicians… you name it. I didn't want to, at least the other game was illegal but I knew my opponents. They were only rich people with a lot of money. This game is dangerous and I know it, but… he threatened me."

"To kill you?"

"Yes." She looks away and touches her hair. She takes a pillow and hugs it.

"I didn't know what to do. I should have gone to Dad, but I couldn't disappoint him like this, I had a track record in school for organizing illegal games. Stupid stuff, nothing mayor. But he knew I had this problem… gambling. He thought that I was over that shit, but I couldn't. I can't…" She looks at me with tears in her eyes. I don't know what to do. I am just there stunned, staring at her beautiful eyes.

"I tried, Edward, I try so hard!" She cries harder and I don't know what to fucking do! So, I just put my hand on her shoulder. And then she was hugging at me and crying against my shirt. I hug her back. I was so scared and I didn't know why. I feel so many things, but above it all, I want Bella to stop crying. She's breaking me.

"Sorry for ruining your shirt. It's a pretty shirt," she says in a muffled voice, still with her head resting on my shoulder.

"That's all right, it's an old shirt, don't worry about it." She laughs and pulls away.

"I... there is more, Edward…"

"Okay."

"I went to the game, but you know those kind of games are illegal. So, at the middle of the game, the Feds busted in and everybody was arrested. Everybody suspected me after that, never mind that I was in prison for 4 months and I know that it was thanks to Dad that I got released early. And to Angela of course."

"And, the loan?"

"I don't know. The man disappeared. I told Dad everything, and he told me that everything was covered. So… yeah, that's everything. After that the judge made me go to this Anonymous shit for gambles like AA? Yeah, it didn't work, I still need it, but fortunately for Dad, nobody in the high places wants to play with me or let me in, even if it is legal. I'm marked." She laughs.

"So, that's why you go to Crown (the Casino)? They can't refuse you there. What about Vegas?" She shakes her head.

"Vegas is a big no-no for me, I can't go there, Dad has contacts there, the minute I cross the border to Nevada, he will know. And he will tell everybody in the casinos to not let me play. This is the only place where he doesn't have knowledge of a casino, or if he does, he thinks it's innocent. Crown is nothing compared to what's in Vegas."

"Your Dad seems to have a lot of power." She looks ahead again and mumbles something into the pillow.

"What?"

"He is the Chief of National Security." I try to process what she is telling me, but I can't, I just…

"What?" I stand up.

"Sorry, I didn't want to tell you. I know it's kind of scary and imposing, but really he is harmless."

"Bella, your Dad is the Chief of National Security! He is like… he talks with the _president_ and stuff!" _Really eloquent, Edward._

"I know but what he is, is NOT who I am, ok?" She is looking at me in that way that tears my heart apart. I sit trying to get a grip of everything she just told me so far. It's funny that her being in jail is nothing compared with who her father is.

"So, how is this going to work, Bella? Me and Atlanta?" Not that I cared really, I just need to know if her father is going to murder me and make me disappear.

"Edward, I know what you're thinking. Dad is harmless really. He won't do anything to you. He can't forbid you from playing in a legal game, or of what we are doing. What are we are going to do is _legal_ 100%. He can't do a thing. I won't play, I will _coach_ you!"

"I don't know, Bella, this is dangerous; and your Dad is a powerful man."

"Well, he is not stupid. He knows that I'm doing something, but he is letting me be. He doesn't care about me much. He just doesn't want that his name is stained with his daughter in jail… again. In fact, the first time he just _let_ me go to jail. He could have done something—erased my records, or whatever—I could have had never put a foot in that jail. But I did. He told me… he told me that is was because I was learning a "lesson". When the truth was that he was so disappointed in me that I'm a gambler. I'm an addict. So here I am asking you to _please_ consider this… this is the closest I can be to a deck of cards and to play in a big game without being thrown in jail or be rejected. With you and with your help..." She was standing now. And she was so close to me. She takes my hand in hers and looks like she is going to break.

"Ok."

"Thank you." She smiles.

"So, Jacob the bodyguard?"

"He is here to make sure I behave."

"Right."

"And Angela really… she is my friend and all, but she is still in a lawyer-mode. She will not understand, Edward."

"All right, Bella, I will gamble for you."

You see, Gamblers don't care.

**AN:**

**Until next time, remember reviews are nice.**


	6. Chapter 6: Mistaken for Strangers

**My my, long time, the reason or reasons I was away are basically that 1)Dina (my Beta) was doing me a big favor in editing chapters 1-3. I wasn't comfortable in adding chapters while the first three where really bad in grammar etc.. So chapter 1-3 are now pretty and ready to read.**

**Second reason is that I was (still) away, I have no internet so this update is really a surprise even for me. I'm still writing so this mean that when I get home I'll be able to update regularly. This is until late August, early September I'm afraid.**

**MISTAKEN FOR STRANGERS**

_**10 years ago**_

"_Edward! Oh my God, what happened to you, baby?"_

"_Mum, I'm fine." That would true if my head wasn't pounding so viciously and if could see with my left eye._

"_Who hit you, baby?"_

"_No body, I fell."_

"_Stop lying to me, Edward. Oh boy, this is gonna be one awful bruise. Get in the house and let me put some ice on that and a steak." I did as I was told. My mom was always really… sweet, you really couldn't say 'no' to her._

_I sit in the kitchen chair in our yellow kitchen… even our chairs were yellow._

"_So, tell me what happened," she said while holding a steak against my eye._

"_I went to the movies, and…"_

"_Alone?" I looked at her, and she nodded._

"_Of course alone, mother."_

"_Right, baby, go on."_

"_And… a bunch of guys just started to say things, and there was this girl who kept talking and wouldn't shut up… so, I just stood up and left, but she followed me. And, mom, I don't know why! She just went after me and followed me! And then she was talking and talking; telling me that she saw me at the movies and that I was really cute and stuff. I mean, it was nice, but then her boyfriend came and she just started screaming at me! And out of the blue her boyfriend just punched me and that's it."_

"_Oh, honey, she was going after you because she was attracted to you, but that… girl had a boyfriend. Some girls are like that, they do things like that because they don't know what they want. I know is difficult to you, especially you. But you need to stay away from that kind of girls for now on, ok? They only bring trouble. Besides, you are too young to have a girlfriend."_

"_I don't want a girlfriend, mom. I can't have friends least a girlfriend."_

"_Well, someday, honey, you will find a girl, and this girl is going to make you happy."_

"_And what if she is like you said… that she doesn't know what she wants?"_

"_Then you make her realize what she wants."_

**PRESENT**

At that time I didn't know what my mom tried to tell me… well, and neither in the present, at least not completely. I had this plan to try to make Bella see that I was there. That I liked her. Well, _more_ than 'liked' her. She was… she made me happy. This plan was so archaic; it didn't have any structure, only a goal… _Bella_. But, really, I felt like a double agent, trying to infiltrate. I gambled for her and in the meantime, I was trying to read her and learn her mannerism; her facial expressions. But you can only go too far with visuals if you don't talk at all. She was the one who spoke the most in our "meetings" everyday. I was not complaining, she said that we had so little time to be prepared for Atlanta, this Sunday, only two days.

I thought that once we were in a hotel alone, I could be more straightforward, but I didn't know how to be so. She was always one step ahead of me. I was so behind emotionally, that she seemed like the holy grail of emotions from my perspective. She could read a person and really understand them; and she did it with me.

Today our goal—our business goal—was to reach five thousand Dollars. She said that it would be a small sum of money compared with the ones that she was used to. Bella bets not for the money, but for the thrill—that's what she told me because I didn't catch that myself. She was really amazing explaining things, like she knows what's wrong with me. I think she suspected something was wrong, but I couldn't be sure.

So, I was in front of her apartment again, 8:28 p.m. I knocked at the door, once.

"Come in!" she yelled. I opened the door and entered. She was seated on the couch, reading something. As I got closer, she put the book down and looked at me.

"Ready?" She smiled. She smiles all the time when she sees me. And it was infectious, because I couldn't help myself as I did so too.

"Sure. Your laptop?"

"Oh, no, no, no. Forget about it, those five thousand Dollars are _lame_. We won't do that. I was reading _this_…"

"Emotions revealed by Paul Ekmann?" I read.

"Yes. This is a great book for understanding facial expressions! This guy is famous. He is a genius like you! You know the series '_Lie to me'_?"

"Not really. I don't watch much TV."

"Well, never mind. He is famous and I was reading some techniques that we can use to know when other people are bluffing."

"Okay. So, what should I do?"

"We are going to practice. I'm going to be your opponent, and you need to know what I'm thinking, or at least, if I'm bluffing."

"Like… in a cards game?"

"No… no, no. I was thinking something simpler; like question… you know, the twenty-question game?"

"Not really."

"Edward, you didn't played that when you where in school?"

"I was home schooled." I said sheepishly.

"Oh, and why was that? Oh, yes, because you were so smart and all that, right?" I just nodded, even if it was part of the truth.

"Well, basically I ask you a question; and you need to answer it. Only here you can answer truthfully or you can lie. And you do the same, the challenge is to know when you are bluffing or not. Fun, right? Oh, and so that we can check the answers later, I'll give you a paper so you can put a check mark if the real answer is true or a cross if it's a lie. I'll do the same."

"Ok, I think I get it. I say something, you tell me if it's truth or lie; and I mark the right answer in this paper. And in the end, we compare notes?"

"Yes, exactly, do you like it?"

"I guess. But how—?"

"Don't worry about it, I will lead you. This is only an exercise. That's why I'm going to ask you questions first, ok? You will repeat the same questions or different ones if you want."

She then explained to me some tricks that she'd learned about when a people touched their hair or nose, or when they were biting their nails, arching an eyebrow, or even biting their lips.

"I do that a lot. I mean I bite my lip a _lot_. You need to learn the weakness of your opponent, Edward. Each person is different. People see and feel differently; but there are some things that are _universal_, lying is universal." I nodded, thinking that she was right. Everybody lies.

"Ok, question number one. What's your favorite book?"

"Karamazov Brothers." I said, it was the truth.

"Ok, that's a… truth." I checked the paper at the number one.

"Second question, and remember, Edward, you can lie… Are you a virgin?" My eyes popped out, I was shocked, but I did answer.

"No." It was… the truth weirdly enough.

"That was a… God, truth. Yes, I'm sure of it." She nodded then continued.

"Nice. Let's see this one. How many sexual partners have you been with?"

"Two." That was a big fat lie; there had been only one.

"Darn, I don't know. Surely that's a lie. Yep, maybe four, but not two." I laughed.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because you are too… hot. I mean, you are really handsome and smart. You don't have a girlfriend, do you? You told me before that you hadn't."

"This is the question number four?" I asked, because I was confused.

"You can say that, yes."

"Not at the moment."

"Well, that's the truth. You didn't even hesitate. Ok, let's move on."

"Do you like me, Edward?" What? Why did she ask me that? Why of all things she could have chosen, she chose to ask me that? Lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie!

"No."

"mmmm… nooo hu?" I shook my head.

"No." I said again.

"I see." she was pensive, her finger tapping her chin.

"Why not?"

"Why not what?"

"Why don't you like me? Think this as a part of your exercise, try to convince me why; and I will tell you if it's truth or lie."

"Well, because… because we have nothing in common, and… you are pushy, and" God what was I supposed to say? I couldn't think of any reason of why I wouldn't like Bella. I liked her. All of her.

"I mean, you are… you _were_ in jail." And as soon as I said the words, I regretted them. Even I knew that I was crossing a line here. She looked at me with a face… this face that I couldn't decipher.

"Ok, I believe you," she said.

"Next question…"

And the questions kept going, about everything. But this time they weren't personal, more like trivial things, like favorite food, she guessed everyone except the most important one.

"Do you wanna see the paper?"

I asked her once she finished questioning me.

"No, not really. I know I did guess everyone of them correctly." I wanted to tell her that she didn't, but I couldn't. Because saying that could implicate a lot of things that I couldn't figure it out yet.

"You should start asking me questions, Edward, you can ask the same ones or not. Just… keep them fun, ok?" Fun. Right. Because what she asked was so very fun.

"All right, mmm… first question, what's your favorite book?"

"Oh, no. You know the answer to that already. Another one." I did know. It was Sense and sensibility.

"Right, so how about… your favorite movie?"

"Ghostbusters." Ok, she could have told me any movie and I could have the same problem. Ok, use your tricks. She was looking at me, smiling, big eyes, pouty lips, hands in her lap and shoulders relaxed.

"True." she wrote something in her paper.

"Go on."

"Ok, are you virgin?" She blushed so so deep, almost tomato-red. Then she lowered her eyes and started to touch her hair.

"Yes." Ok, she is twenty-two; she should have a guy in her life at some point, right? God! Use the tricks!

"Lie." She blushed even more and laughed.

"What?" I asked.

"You are so red right now, Edward."

"You are too." I say and I started laughing with her, both of us were laughing so hard till we had tears in our eyes.

"Oh my god, look at you, you are so red."

"You are! I know you are lying because you are so red!"

"Ok, ok. Ok! The answers are at the end, not right now." She was calming herself.

I kept asking her questions, but I didn't ask her whether she liked me or not. I couldn't stand the answer, truth or lie, I just couldn't.

"So, you did well. Nine out of ten." We did only 10 questions each.

"What was the one that I didn't guess right?"

"My favorite food. I don't like peanut butter. I know it's weird but it's true."

"Well, I think it's all thanks to you, I thought that I was going to fail miserably in this test."

"Oh, come one, it's not like you are one of those people who can't read emotions." And then my smile faded, because I was one of those people.

"I mean, that kind of people is awful. They are like shells, casqueds. They don't project anything, they are like strangers even with their own family, it's really sad, but you do, you project something."

"You are wrong," I said in a whisper.

"What?"

"You are wrong."

"About what?"

"I'm a shell, I _am_ a stranger." I took my things and left. Bella was behind me, following me, calling my name, but it didn't matter, because I knew that she knew the truth now. I couldn't lie to her. I couldn't face this lie anymore, but I couldn't confront her like this, I felt… I don't know how I fucking felt; I just ran… and ran.

**AN: Someone is a drama queen, but let's be real, Asperger's is not something fun or easy to deal with, but persons can live with it, they are famous people that have this kind of autism like Gary Numan (music band Cars), Bill Gates, Alfred Hitchcock, Isaac Newton, Jane Austen, Albert Einstein, H. C. Andersen,Darwin, Thomas Jefferson, Michelangelo, Mozart,Beethoven, Edison, Woody Allen, Michael Jackson (rumored), Mark Twain, Henry Ford, and many many others. Surprised? I was too.**

**So as can you see, that syndrome doesn't limit the life of the person that bad, they can function, the problem is in they relationships, family, friends, lovers, etc. Edward is just a man that besides Asperger's is very insecure, he didn't have friends or girlfriends, yes maybe because the syndrome, maybe because the over-protectiveness of his parents, or maybe because is how he coped with his geniality, as you can see many people that have this syndrome have a enormous ability in something else, in this case Edward is a genius in math and logic and THERE ARE DIFFERENT LEVELS OF THIS SYNDROME, so Edward may have a more functional life than other person with AS. I hope this could help you to understand more about Edward and why he is a drama queen sometimes.**

**REVIEWS ARE LOVE**


	7. Chapter 7: Such a little Faith

**Oh my!, I feel ashamed for being away so long, but RL was weird lately, I had an operation in my arm, hence I couldn't write. So if you still there...thank you.**

**And thank you to Dina, great beta, great reader.**

**EDIT: ADDED A BANNER, YOU CAN SEE IT IN MY PROFILE :)  
**

**SUCH A LITTLE FAITH **

…_and then ran some more._

I kept running until I was tired and out of breath. Still, my home was at a good five-minute walking distance.

I tried to think, really think, not just be an emo bastard and sulk in my own misery. I did make a fool of myself I know that. Maybe I can fix this tomorrow. Say that I was in a bad place emotionally and that I was exhausted from work, I'll do that, but now I'm too tired to go back and explain, I'm so tired…

When I got home, there was a car outside, a black car with the headlights on. I saw the driver's door open, a man getting out only to stand by the side of his car. And even though I was just a few feet away, I still couldn't see him as it was too dark.

I approached the car and saw a man getting out of the car's back door.

"Mr. Cullen?"

"Yes?" I said.

"Can I speak with you?"

"About what?" I said in apprehension.

"Bella Swan, I'm her father." I stared at him and then I realized that there were more cars. Three more, all black SUVs. I understood. He was here to warn me to stay away from her.

"I… sure, just… let me get in." The man followed me, talking to one of the other men, but I didn't pay attention. I was trying to think of a way to handle this.

"You want to come in?" My apartment was not luxurious, but it was neat, simple and a bit small.

Bella's father didn't hesitate. I guess a man like him could never afford to hesitate. He sat in one of the chairs at the table.

"Would you like something to drink?" I was trying to be a good host, Mom taught me well.

"Let's cut to the chase, I know you are… _working_ with my daughter, if that's what it is; I want to know exactly what you two are doing."

"I'm… we just play cards, she is teaching me." I said, still standing in the doorway.

"Please, sit, Mr. Cullen. What I'm about to tell you is really important. I don't want you to miss a thing, do you understand me?"

"Okay."

"I love my daughter, I do, but she has problems. She is an addict."

"She told me about her problem." I said.

"Did she, now? Did she tell you the length of her problem too? That she was in jail?" I was starting to think that her father was a real douche. He was saying these things about Bella, and she wasn't here to defend herself. I felt trapped and angry at the same time.

"She told me about being in jail, yes."

"You two are together?"

"Like a couple? No, we are not, she is a friend. Listen, Mr. Swan, what is between Bella and I is just that. Bella AND I. Excuse me if I don't feel like telling you more." He looked at me for a long time.

"You are not easily intimidated, are you?"

"I don't know what you mean. I'm trying to be polite here, but I don't like that you are questioning me about my relationship with Bella. I said everything that I could."

"Listen, Mr. Cullen, I'm not trying to threaten you, at least not yet. I just want to understand what Bella is doing."

"Why don't you ask her that yourself?"

"I did. She was… vague."

"She had her reasons then."

"I just want to know if she is gambling. She hasn't asked me for money, well, more than the sums she receives monthly. I was happy because it meant that she was recovering. But then agent Black told me about you, I thought that she was sucking you dry or vice versa."

"What! How do you think something like that?"

"Because she has done that before."

"The old men…"

"Yes… Freudian bullshit, if you ask me."

"No, Mr. Swan, she is not sucking me dry, I… I'm not wealthy."

"But your family is."

"She has never asked me about money, ever."

"Yet… look, I'm just trying to warn you. If she is not betting she is doing something related to it; I thought you two had a thing …" he said, almost to himself.

"We don't."

"So, what have you two been doing this past week?"

"If she is not telling you, I won't. I won't lose her trust just because her father doesn't trust her."

"I will find out sooner or later, it's better if you tell me."

"We are not doing anything wrong."

"Are you two playing, gambling or betting?" I didn't answer.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'. If you two are trying to do something illegal, I will stop you. And I will ruin you. Do you understand me? I know you work in a Casino and it's not coincidence that you know her. Maybe you two met there, she lured you, asking you for something. I don't know what it is all this secrecy, it's just bad news for my daughter, but I will find out." I didn't say anything.

Mr. Swan stood his mouth inches from my ear.

"She will destroy you, boy. You are not the first one; and believe me you are not going to be the last."

After Mr. Swan left, I put on my pajamas—really just boxers—and went to sleep. Well, I tried to go to sleep, but I couldn't. By twelve a.m., I was contemplating doing pushups to tire myself. But a knock on my door made me forget all my frustrated energy. The knock was almost inaudible, but my house was dead-silent. I stood up and went to open the door.

Bella was on the other side, her hair a mess, wearing a hoodie and big red eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

"You left this." She held up a piece of paper; my piece of paper from the ten-question game.

"And?"

"Can I come in?"

"Sure, sorry, come on in."

Bella looked around and instead of sitting in the chair at the table as her father did. She sat on the arm of the couch facing me.

"Well, I know it's late. But I want to ask you something, I couldn't sleep."

"Me too."

"You wanted to ask me something, too?" she said, smiling a little bit.

"No, I mean, I couldn't sleep."

"Right. Well, I… why did you leave?" she asked suddenly.

I didn't answer her. I just sat in the chair in front of her, thinking how to phrase this. She knew I was trying to explain, she waited.

"I don't know, sorry about that. I behaved poorly. Really, I shouldn't have done that. I apologize."

"Did I said or do something wrong?"

"No, nothing was wrong." Tell her, tell her, tell her.

"Why then?" The room was very quiet.

I couldn't tell her, not yet.

"It was a bad day at work" That's all I said, and I hoped that she was satisfied with the answer.

"Are you telling me the truth? I don't want you to feel uncomfortable if I said or…"

"No, really, it was all me. I was in a bad place. You came all this way to ask me this?" I said tired.

"No, really. I mean, I guess I did, but not only that."

"What else?" I was trying to decipher her face and motives, but her face was hiding behind the shadows of the room and the trends of her hair.

"The paper? Do you remember the questions, Edward?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember, do you… did you lie in your answers?" She asked, stuttering.

"Yes, a couple of times." Suddenly, I know where all this was going. _The question number five._

She held the little paper in her tiny hands, on her lap, crushing it.

"Did you lie in the question about liking me?"

"Yes," I say without looking at her. My hands where sweaty and my heart has hammering against my chest.

"And you didn't tell me."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because…" I felt like a child, I couldn't speak in sentences with more than one word.

"Because, what?"

"What do you want from me, Bella?" I asked, standing up.

"The truth!"

"I'm telling you the truth." I was pacing in the room.

"I like you too." I stopped and turned around. She was there looking like a small child.

"Are you going to say something?"

"Why?" I asked.

"Because…" she smiled and I did.

She stood up and walked until she was in front of me. The shadows covering us, the light forgotten in the background. I felt comfortable here, in the cold darkness, where she couldn't see my face and my trembling frame. She first touched my hand, just barely, then she put her other hand on my other arm. I was stone cold, not with fear, but with uncertainty. The kind of uncertainty that you feel when you are always alone and someone touches you.

I felt her lips then, dry and chipped. Her body was so close… so I just stood there feeling.

"Edward?"

"mmm?"

"Something wrong?"

"No, why?" I said in a whisper.

"You are not kissing me back." I smiled against her lips.

"Your lips are chipped," I said.

"They are. Are you going to do something about it?"

_And I did._

I kissed her back. I remember kisses, but hers weren't kisses. No. They were big bombs of pounding hearts and gulps of oxygen. I was so dizzy and my hands where everywhere, I don't believe I truly felt something so soft. Her hands where like little needles with anesthetic and her hair smelled like coffee and sweets. I was so entranced and lost, but at the same time aware of everything around me. I tried to feel everything and enjoy it, but my mind was so lost in all the sensations… overwhelming sensations and feelings.

* * *

AN: So if you like it, you know what to do :) Reviews are love


	8. Chapter 8: This is not bad love

Hi again, enjoy!

Thanks to Dina for making this chapter so neat and pretty!

**Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer  
**

**CHAPTER 8**

**THIS IS NOT BAD LOVE**

"_If I'm guilty of anything  
It's loving you too much  
Honey, sometimes love  
Means getting a little rough  
This is not bad love"_

Bad Love by White Lies

When I was six, I asked my father why my classmates were so happy about Christmas, he told me "Because they receive presents from Santa", but I didn't understand. I thought of Santa as a scary man. That same year, I found out that Santa was my father and I had a crisis thinking he was giving presents to all these kids in the whole world. He then told me the truth.

"Son, you are different. You are smarter, quieter and more mature than your classmates or even some adults, so that's why I'm telling you this… their parents told them that Santa was giving them presents because it's tradition and it makes it look like magic. Kids like magic."

I nodded, I liked magic all right. So, I asked, "So, there is no magic?" Dad looked at me and smiled, "Magic is subtle, it's not always noticed. You need to look really close to see magic." I frowned. "How close?"

"Really, really close. But before that, you will feel it. You will think that something is different, and that's how you know that you need to look closer. Sometimes it's real magic, sometimes it's only mirage."

Back then, those words made little sense to me, like when my mother told me about girls and what they want. Today as I feel a small figure in my bed, I smell lilacs and magnolias and I hear her breathing… I don't think I need to see really close to know she is magic, and that I want her to want me; to make her see that she wants me. And I understand what my parents told me.

It's almost 6 am, I barely slept remembering the kissing, the groping and the make out session that lasted hours until we were tired and couldn't keep our eyes open.

_She kissed me. I touched and kissed her feeling alive. I felt her little hands at the back of my neck and her mouth parting while I put my hands on her waist and started moving them up until they were barely touching her breasts, she was panting into my mouth. I was panting too. Breaths exchanging, heat creating, trembling limbs and excited hearts, thundering. Thundering. Then her tongue was inside my mouth; and I responded in the same way. She was so hot, literally. I felt her hand move to my chest, and again, I did the same. I touched her breasts over her hoodie; and I became bolder. I unzipped it and she let me. I was doing this so instinctively that I don't remember how I was suddenly touching her bare breasts; and she was undoing my pants. We moved to the sofa and she was straddling me. Moving in languid moves that I was about to cum if she didn't stop. And she did. My heart broke when she looked me in the eye. I thought she was going to stop this for good and calling it a mistake. She didn't._

"_I feel like I'm burning," she said with a smile, then she took off her hoodie and I lost contact with her breasts. It was fast when she returned to me and started to kiss me again._

"_You feel it too?" she asked. I felt it. I feel it now and I feel like a thousand small lights are inside me, moving me, making me feel tremors in my limbs._

"_Yes," I said, panting in her ear._

_She looked at me, "You are… you are… white bright lights." Her voice wasn't a whisper, and not at its normal level, either. I smiled because we were feeling the same._

"_You feel like small lights inside me. I want…" I couldn't end my sentence._

"_What do you want?"_

"_You. So much."_

"_Yes, tell me how much, Edward." Her tongue was down my throat, her hands on my thighs, so close to my dick._

"_I… I… want you so much that when I touch you it's not enough. When I smell you, I need more… I just **need you!" **I emphasized my words._

_We didn't talk after that. We just keep touching until she felt cold in my arms._

"_You are cold?" I asked._

"_Yes, I little bit." She took her hoodie and put it on._

"_Can I stay?" she asked in a small voice._

"_Of course."_

"_Let's go to bed." She stood up and took my hand. She didn't know where my room was, but my apartment is really small; you don't need to guess where it is._

I didn't feel awkward, I always felt and behaved awkwardly with women before. I didn't analyzed any of it this time, with Bella, I felt like I was somebody else. A normal person, doing normal things with a girl in my bed.

I was dozing off when I felt Bella touching my arm, she was facing me, still with her eyes closed. My arm on her waist, legs intertwined.

"Bella?" She opened one eye and smiled.

"How is my hair?" she asked and I laughed.

"Messy." I kissed her forehead and that makes us closer. She hugged me really hard, but softly.

"What time is it?" Because I just checked, I didn't need to see the clock.

"Six. Give or take a few minutes."

"You didn't sleep well?" she said in a muffled tone against my shirt. Feeling her voice's vibrations everywhere.

"I couldn't."

"Why?"

"I was remembering. Thinking…"

"About?"

"Last night… today, a few hours ago. My couch." She made a sound like a mewling cat.

"I slept so well. You should sleep. You need to work, right?"

"Yes, in five hours." She kissed my chest.

"It was good?" She asked.

"What?"

"Remembering? Was it worth the lack of sleep?" She laughed.

"Yes, very much. But this is better." I hugged her to make her see that being with her this way, right now, it was better than any memory.

"I'm glad." But her voice was sleepy.

"Bella?"

"Hmmm?" She answered, barely awake. I knew then that she was asleep.

Things were good.

Eventually, she woke me up. I made breakfast. Coffee, toast, eggs and orange juice because it felt like a Monday even though it was Saturday. We ate at my small table. She cleaned the dishes after she insisted vehemently and I couldn't refuse.

"So?" she asked, putting my coffee mug on the shelf.

"So?" I asked, confused. She turned around with an odd expression. Yesterday, even a few hours ago, it didn't matter that I couldn't read her. It felt natural and effortless. But right now, it means everything.

She exhaled.

"Edward, we just woke up together in bed. After a very long, long make out session on your couch."

"Oh that." She walked past me and sat on the kitchen chair.

"I… I don't know you. But I want this," she said, gesturing between us. Then I understood what she was trying to say.

"Me too!" I said, almost screaming.

"You do? Because you don't seem like it," she said in a hard tone.

"I'm sorry; I'm not good at these things." _Any_ _human relationship,_ I added in my head.

"At this _thing_? What do you mean? Like being with a girl? because you seemed really good at it last night, or was with dealing with a pushy girl that has been wanting you this whole damn time and you didn't even notice? Or was that…"

"Stop!" I screamed at her. I was so exasperated by her outburst, I wasn't good with these things too. The screaming. The yelling. Too fast, too much!

"I… just give me a minute." I walked away to my room and started getting dressed.

Just as I was fully dressed and looking in the mirror, I felt her. I turned around and there she was.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking at the floor.

"I'm not good at these things either, I…" I walked towards her until I'm in front of her. She was still looking at the floor.

"Bella… I want this, you and me." She looked at me, and maybe I couldn't be the king of emotions, but I could make a girl smile.

She was smiling with sparkling eyes, and I knew there in that moment that she was feeling this thrill too. These vibrations in my chest. The blood rushing to my head.

"You do." It wasn't a question, she wasn't asking. She was smiling knowing that we are in the same place. I felt the same. I felt accomplished and free.

I was in a good mood when Jasper approached me with bad news.

"We need you this Sunday." He was behind me, but honestly, it didn't matter if I could see him or not. I knew there was no way around it.

"I can't," I answered in a firm tone, while I dealt cards to faceless players.

"Why not? I need you, Edward, Tyler is asking to take the day off for personal reasons. I couldn't say no… he hasn't been taking any vacation time or even medical leaves! He is a good worker," Jasper asked something, but I guess it was rhetorical. I wanted to answer him—to tell him that I'll be on a romantic weekend with my girlfriend—but he would ask who was she; and I didn't want to lie.

"I can't. I have things to do. Important things to do," I added the last part hoping that he would budge.

"Money important? Or personal important?"

"Both," I said, while the faceless player scream because he is winning.

"Interesting… how can you mix pleasure with business, Edward?" This was a real question, I guess. I didn't want to answer. I didn't have an answer. So, I just shrugged my shoulders.

"Fine! I'll ask Mike. He can barely deal cards. I need to teach him." He turned around only to turn back. But from my peripheral sight, I saw that he was by my right side.

"It's the Swan girl, isn't it?" I wanted to ignore him, but I couldn't. He was my boss, so I lied. Because one thing was lying about the trip, and another is lying about… _Bella_.

"No, it is not." Jasper stayed there for a minute, watching me. I felt uncomfortable.

"What?" I asked, still dealing cards.

"You are a good liar, Edward. Really, really good." And at that he left. Not a good enough of a liar.

Around lunch I went to the bar and ordered a coke, a burger with a side salad. Since I worked here, the casino gave me 50% discount on food and beverages. I usually only eat food that I prepare, but as I was too busy kissing and groping Bella to make lunch, I couldn't complain. The burger is bad and the salad is mushy, so I ate half of both. When I asked for the check, I sensed her close. I turned around and saw her talking to an old man. I didn't notice that I was shredding a napkin until the bits were scattered everywhere.

Bella was doing that thing she does when she talks. She moved in a candid and fluid way, like a feline. She was wearing a short skirt, high boots and a turtle neck. I wanted to thank someone—like Math Gods—for the bit of modesty she was showing from the waist up. But I didn't. Because all that was for nothing when you looked at her from waist down. Her legs.

She saw me and stopped talking with that man. And when she walked in my direction, I wanted to run. Not because I didn't want to talk to her, but rather because she was going to make me lose my job; and the worst thing was that I didn't care.

"Hi, Edward." She was smiling at me, a full-teeth smile and one finger twirling her curly, shiny brown hair.

"Hi, Miss Swan, nice to see you here, are you playing?" I tried to sound formal, but I thought it sounded a little bit pained. She was not going to make things easy. She came closer until she is so close I could smell her minty breath.

"You are such a great liar, honey." And then she leans more to whisper in my ear, "I want to test you. I want to know how good you are at lying. You think that you can fool all these people and your boss about me? About how you touched me last night and this morning? I don't know if I can pretend that I don't want you so so _so_ much that when I first saw you sitting at this bar, I started to get wet."

This is… _I'm fucked._

Reviews are love and highly appreciated


End file.
